


In this I am content

by Verdant_Melancholy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Also slight smut, Aunt/Nephew Incest, F/M, Here is a bit of happiness, To make up for the soul rending angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdant_Melancholy/pseuds/Verdant_Melancholy
Summary: A glimpse into the fifth year of the reign of Queen Daenerys I of House Targaryen.





	1. day 1,887

 It was times like this that Daenerys regretted her own obstinacy. Tyrion had assured that she was not needed for every council meeting, given her current condition, and promised to tell her all that had transpired afterwards. Daenerys had declined without hesitation. She trusted her friend to keep his word, but that was not the issue. She would not shirk her responsibility regardless of her health.

 

Her advisors had been locked in discussion for what seemed like an eternity. A storm of monstrous size and ferocity had swept into the Riverlands from the Bay of Crabs a little less than a moon's turn ago. Refugees were streaming into King's Landing all with tales of destruction and newfound poverty. The Crown's response to this disaster was far slower than Daenerys would have liked.

 

"I have said it before and I will say it again. We simply do not have the coin to support those fleeing the Riverlands. We are already stretched thin as it is with the aid we are sending Riverrun. Not to mention the repairs to the city from the war have yet to be completed." Lord Wyman Manderly, her master of coin, leaned his impressive girth back and waited for the predicable retort from her master of laws.

 

Lord Royce did not disappoint. "That is easy for you to say, Manderly. It is not your people who have suffered. Gulltown was near destroyed by that devil of a storm and yet the damage done there pales in comparison to Maidenpool and Saltpans. Would you have us turn a blind eye to their suffering?"

 

Her Hand interrupted before another argument could take place. "Nobody is saying that we should simply leave the Riverlands to their fate, Lord Royce. But Lord Wyman raises a valid point. How are we to pay for these people? We have sent what we can spare to Lord Tully, yet he asks for more every time. The King himself writes that the people are suffering and that time is of the essence. My heart goes out to the smallfolk, but hearts will not pay for bread and mortar."

 

Ser Davos, the master of ships, piped in. "Surely we could divert some funds from the city repairs? Most of the essential parts are already done."

 

Tyrion shook his head. "That would put many a King's lander out of work. We'd have riots in the streets."

 

Grey Worm, who had been silent until now, spoke. "My Queen, many of us Unsullied are prepared to forswear payment for our service. The coin can be used for other purposes."

 

Daenerys frowned. The Unsullied had served her well all these long years. After the wars she had insisted they receive rewards and be paid. "Some Unsullied have families to support."

 

Grey Worm nodded. "This is true. But there are also a large number who do not have families. Who stayed in your service because of what you are, what you have done. We do not serve you for coin, my Queen. We serve you for you."

 

She felt her heart swell at their selfless loyalty. Although it left a bitter taste in her mouth, she accepted their generous offer.

 

Lord Wyman was rubbing his fat hands together merrily. "That will go a long way in helping us in this matter. Still, it does not solve the problem completely."

 

The situation was too complicated. She wanted to help all of her people, so badly, but not at the expense of another group of her subjects. She clenched her jaw and came to a decision. "So be it. We have little time and are in need of a large amount of coin. There is no choice but to take out loans."

 

Her advisors were surprised by the suggestion. They knew her feelings on the matter. Daenerys despised loans. Although she understood that they were a healthy part of her realm's economy, she abhorred the shadow they cast over a person. Like a blade hanging above one's head.

 

"A fine idea, but from who?" asked Lord Royce. 

 

"Not the Iron Bank, I hope," said Ser Davos. "I have had enough dealings with them to last me seven lives, beggin' Your Grace's pardon."

 

Daenerys agreed wholeheartedly. After Cersei had been dealt with, the Iron Bank had come to her with sweet smiles and the promise of friendship. She had them thrown out on their bottoms and declared that if any lord or lady in Westeros wished to deal with them, they could so only with the express permission of the Crown. The bankers of Braavos had proven themselves a danger to Daenerys in the past and she would not forget that. 

 

"Rest assured, Ser Davos. It shall be a cold day before I go to the Iron Bank begging bowl in hand. I thought instead that we could turn to Pentos or Mereen for assistance."

 

She saw the wheels turning in her Hand's eyes. "Mereen has been prosperous as of late. And the common people love you still. You can't walk two feet in the city without bumping into a girl named Daenerys, or so I have heard."

 

Daenerys felt a wave of satisfaction. Finally they had a working plan. "I shall pen a letter to the city's council. Lord Tyrion will select our envoy. We must make an impressive sight if we hope to get good terms. Ser Davos, ready the finest ship we have for the journey."

 

That signaled the end of the meeting as her men dispersed to carry out her commands. With a sigh, Daenerys rose ponderously from the chair, her swollen belly making her ungainly and slow. _Nobody ever said the life of a Queen was easy_ , she thought.

 

* * *

 

Alone in her chambers, Daenerys sank into the bed with a groan. Her entire body was one giant ache. Her back felt as if she had been whipped several times. Someone had placed fire pits in her joints and dumped all the fire wood they could into them. Her feet were so swollen she couldn't put her slippers on. Her breasts felt as if some lusty beast had ravaged them for hours (which was impossible as her husband had not been home in weeks).

 

After the meeting she had met with the Commander of the City Watch to discuss keeping the peace with the recent influx of peasants. She had promised three centuries of Unsullied to supplement the guardsmen. After that she had spoken to the master of horse who had sworn that the sickness that had afflicted the castle's animals was passing. Then she had addressed some petitioners (which annoyed Tyrion immensely) and swore to consider their requests with all seriousness. With no more pressing responsibilities at the moment, Daenerys could relax and rest for once.

 

A sharp rapt at the door shattered that dream and woke the dragon in her.

 

Daenerys rolled over and did not bother to hide the bite from her words. "What is it?"

 

"The Princess is here requesting to see you, your Grace."

 

Before she could reply, a shrill voice rang out. "Mama! It's me! Let me in!"

 

Sighing, Daenerys said, "The door is open, sweetling."

 

The door burst open and in bounded her daughter and heir. Rhaella was five, a small thing with dark hair and indigo eyes. She grinned upon seeing her mother and said, "Mama, Missandei says I am doing very well in my lessons. That I am a faster learner than even she was at my age."

 

Daenerys couldn't help but smile at the brightness in her daughter's eyes. "I am glad to hear it. But aren't you forgetting something?"

 

Rhaella frowned, pondering the question put to her. Every man in the kingdom swore that she had Daenerys' face, but when she frowned like this the Queen saw the shadow of Jon Snow. Her heart filled with longing at the thought of Jon. _Come back to me soon, my love._

 

"Oh!" said Rhaella. She smiled shyly before skipping over to give her mother two kisses, one on each cheek. Before she could pull away Daenerys wrapped her arms around her daughter and pulled her close. Rhaella shrieked and tried to squirm away. In response Daenerys began planting kisses on her forehead. Rhaella giggled and angled herself so her head was on her mother's belly. "I wish the babe would come soon," she said suddenly serious. 

 

"Me too," she replied, thinking of her aching back.

 

Rhaella looked up and into her mother's eyes. "Do you think the babe will like me?"

 

Daenerys' heart clenched tightly at the hope in her voice. "Of _course_ it will like you. Hear me, Rhaella. Whether the gods give you a brother or a sister, they shall love you as much as I love you."

 

Rhaella bobbed her head. "Okay." She frowned again. "Papa says the babe will be a big responsibility for me. He says I will be a big sister after the birth. That I must be brave because I will have a brother or sister looking to me. I promise I will be as brave as I can be, Mama."

 

Daenerys could take no more. She squeezed Rhaella as tightly as her condition would allow. Despite the warmth of the moment, she felt afraid all of a sudden. _I have so much to lose now and the gods have never shied away from taking what is mine from me._

 

Rhaella pulled away. "Mama, when will Papa return? I want to practice my dancing lessons with him. Gerion left to go see his cousins and his uncle Jaime on Tarth and Ser Jorah went away with Papa. There's nobody for me to practice with now."

 

Daenerys smiled. Rhaella loved her sword play and she had no greater supporters than her father, Ser Jorah, and Tyrion's young son Gerion. "Your father and Ser Jorah are on their way home as we speak. And you know Gerion will return when he is ready. He loves spending time with his cousins and uncle though, so you must be ready to wait. Lord Tyrion explained this, remember?"

 

Her daughter turned away and pouted. Jon always said Rhaella looked most like her when she pouted. Daenerys had not even dignified that with a response. "Come now, sweetling. If you are a good girl then your father will take you to Dragonstone to see Drogon when he returns. Would you like that?" Once peace had been achieved, she had decided that she would not allow her dragons to be chained in the dragonpits. Instead she had them reside on her family's ancestral island where they could roam freely without endangering others.

 

Rhaella's face lit up. There was few things she liked better than Drogon. "Yes! I swear I shall be a good girl Mama!"

 

Daenerys chuckled and got up to walk Rhaella to the door. She ordered one of the guards outside to take her daughter to her quarters. With one last kiss she wished Rhaella sweet dreams and returned to her bed. She quickly changed into a thin, silken nightdress and pulled the furs up and over her belly. 

 

She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys was awakened many hours later by a soft kiss on her forehead. Her eyes blinked open to find her husband staring down at her. There was a small smile on his lips.

 

"You're home," she said dreamily.

 

"Aye. I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you."

 

She shook her head. She was glad he did. "I have missed you," she took his hands in her own and kissed them gently. "How was your journey?"

 

Jon frowned. "Long and tiring. There is much work to be done before the Riverlands are set to rights. But let us speak of that on the morrow. Is Rhaella well?"

 

Daenerys nodded. "She is even more rambunctious then when you left."

 

Jon's smile transformed his face into a tender thing. "It is a shame I arrived so late. I wish I could see her."

 

"And what of my wishes, husband?"

 

Jon quirked his eyebrow at her, until she rolled over fully and allowed the moonlight to illuminate her form. She heard him suck in a sharp breath. Through the sheer fabric Jon could see his wife's flawless skin. Her heavy breasts and the large milk stains they had left in her gown. And finally, her belly so huge and swollen with their child.

 

He had never seen a more beautiful sight.

 

Daenerys took his hand and gently brought it to her cunt. She rubbed their joined hands into her slickness. "Do you feel that, Jon? How _wet_ I am? I have been like this everyday since you left. Every _single_ day. You have no idea what it is like. To wake up, _drowning_ in your own desire. Are you so cruel as to leave me to this fate?"

 

Jon had gone very still. He said nothing, but his eyes were very dark and very scathing. He did not take her then and there though, as she hoped. Instead he jerked his fingers out of her grasp and roughly grabbed her wrist. He never broke eye contact as he brought her hand to his face and plunged her soaking fingers into his mouth.

 

Daenerys felt her cunt _throb_. She could not stop her legs from squirming as he licked and sucked her fingers. His mouth was a hot pit that would surely kill her. "Oh, you _monster_. You cruel, _heartless_ monster. I am your Queen and this is how you treat me....." her words died as he began to rub his tongue between her fingers methodically. Making sure to lap up every drop of her essence. 

 

Daenerys was on the verge of sobbing. "Enough, my King. _Enough_. Make love to me or I am certain I shall die."

 

Jon popped her fingers out of his mouth and instead bent to capture her lips in a bruising kiss. Their tongues wrapped around one another and all the air in her lungs suddenly vanished. She felt dizzy and dangerously hot. _He's lit the fire in my blood._

 

The knock on the door was as chilling as a pail of ice water. 

 

The kiss ended and Daenerys felt the dragon in her awaken. If the entire city wasn't about to be swallowed into the Blackwater, she was going to throttle someone. Jon was breathing heavy when he wiped his hand clean and rose to go see who had disturbed them. She heard him talk to whoever was at the door for a moment before shutting it again. When he turned to face her, all the white hot fury in her died.

 

_Oh, now that's a sweet sight._

 

Jon had Rhaella tucked securely in his arms, her head pressed into his neck. Some of his hair brushed against hers and blended in so well Daenerys could not tell the difference. She felt her heart clench tightly again.

 

Father and daughter sat down on the edge of the bed together. She could not stop herself from drinking in the image of them. Rhaella looked up and locked eyes with her own. "Please don't be mad at me, mama."

 

Daenerys couldn't stop the smile from spreading to her face. "I am not mad. But why were you up so late?"

 

Rhaella shook her head. "I wasn't. I dreamed that papa had come back. When I woke I came to check. Can I sleep with you tonight?"

 

She knew that she should say no. That Rhaella was getting too big and that they had spoiled her enough. But with father and daughter both staring at her so, Daenerys felt any strength in her body wither. _I am a weak woman,_ she thought ruefully. 

 

Daenerys spread her arms in welcome and the two slid in to join her. Rhaella laid snuggled against her and Jon took position behind his daughter. She intertwined her hand with that of her husband's and they shared a chaste kiss before burying themselves deeper into the bed.

 

With her hand in Jon's and her face pressed into Rhaella's curls, Daenerys fell into a deep sleep. She dreamt she was at Dragonstone that night. In the sky above the castle flew countless dragons. They nearly blotted out the sky with their wide wings and colorful scales. When they roared for her to join them, the Mother of Dragons took to the air and flew amongst her children and family. 

 

Where she belonged.

 


	2. day 1,920

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to continue this. Enjoy.

Jon fought the urge to rub his eyes. The ache in them had steadily increased in potency for the last hour. At times it felt as if someone had taken a mace to his face and hadn't yet deigned to remove it. Despite the slow agony however, he forced himself to listen to his advisors. 

 

"We've secured the loans for the Crown and with some very favorable terms if I may be so bold. Her Grace truly is beloved in the East." Lord Wyman gave a hearty chuckle at his own observation.

 

Lord Royce scowled. "Yes, it is good that we have settled the Crown's financial troubles. Now let us speak on more pressing matters. Your Grace?"

 

Jon nodded and turned to the master of whisperers. Ser Baelor Hightower was a man of middling age yet remained strong and handsome. At the moment he was not wearing the famous smile that had earned him the title of "Brightsmile". Instead his mouth was pinched into a deep frown. "Report your findings, Ser."

 

Ser Baelor nodded. "Of course, Your Grace. There is trouble brewing with the Ironborn. They have begun raiding once again in defiance of Queen Daenerys' decrees. The Greyjoys claim that all is well and good in their letters, but the butchered smallfolk and raided holdfasts along the western coast speaks otherwise."

 

"Well, what did you expect?" spat Lord Royce. "They're nothing but an island of brigands and pirates."

 

"Surely Yara and Theon Greyjoy would come to the Crown for aid if they were experiencing difficulties reigning their lords in?' asked Lord Wyman.

 

"Unless those two are playing us false," suggested Ser Baelor. "It is not an easy thing the Queen asked of them. The Ironborn have been raiders for thousands of years. Her Grace commanded them to give up their way of life. Perhaps the Greyjoy siblings have come to the realization that they simply cannot change their people."

 

"So you think they are allowing the raids while sending platitudes to keep us satisfied they are handling the matter?" asked Ser Davos.

 

"It is treason to lie to the Crown," Lord Tyrion reminded the council suddenly.

 

His advisors mumbled in agreement but none looked excited at the prospect they had all come to. If the Iron Islands were back to their old tricks and if they refused to yield........

 

Jon grit his teeth in frustration. War. It would mean another war. More death and suffering of those who wanted no part in it. The thought galled him to his core.

 

Lord Commander Mormont spoke up then. "It is a subject not a one of us wishes to consider, but we should discuss what to do if it comes to battle."

 

Jon grunted in agreement. He turned to Davos. "How many ships can we spare?"

 

Ser Davos shook his head. "None, Your Grace. Every single cog, dromond, and galley we have is engaged in trade."

 

"Trade that is vital to the stability of the realm. Trade that we cannot cease at the moment," added Tyrion. 

 

"What use would more ships even be? The Iron Islands have some the best sailors in the world. No, it would be a mistake to meet them in open battle." 

 

"You suggest we do nothing then?"

 

"Of course not! But let us speak of practical solutions......"

 

Jon flexed his burned right hand. He mulled over what course of action to take as his council continued to argue. He hoped that Theon and Yara were not playing him and Daenerys false, but he could not sit back and wait for them to take action. Not while his people suffered. Finally he spoke up, "Enough. Lord Tyrion and Ser Baelor, since the majority of the raids have taken place on your lands we shall reinforce your domains first. Put your coastal holdings on alert. Arm your people and dispatch your knights. We cannot fight at sea for the moment, but they cannot fight from the air. If needed we can use Drogon and Rhaegal to push back any major incursions."

 

His men were silent but nodded. They understood that if their king was considering fielding dragons, it meant the situation was extreme.

 

Jon made sure there was ice in his voice when he spoke again. "In the mean time I shall pen a letter to Pyke reminding the Greyjoys of their duty to the Crown. I shall also remind them of what befalls those who flout the realm's laws."

 

He dismissed the council after that and slumped in his chair. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and gave a weary sigh. He heard the scraping of a chair and looked up to see that Tyrion had not yet left. A goblet of wine was placed in front of him. It was filled nearly to the brim.

 

His Hand gave a smile. "A liquid tonic for the pounding in your head?"

 

Jon cracked a slight smile and graciously took the wine. It was cold and soothing. He felt the ache fade somewhat. There was a bit of wine on his thumb. He absently flicked it away. 

 

Tyrion's expression grew sober. "This matter of the Iron Islands unsettles me. We cannot afford another war at this time. We have only just begun to truly lick our wounds."

 

"Believe me when I say war is the last thing I want. But it may come to that all the same. Daenerys was clear. The age of the reaver is over. If they will not abide by that then we will have no choice but to defend our people."

 

Tyrion snorted. "Then let us hope you're better at writing words than you are at speaking them. Mayhaps you will charm the reavers into standing down peacefully?"

 

"One can hope."

 

His friend's laugh was quiet but sincere. "Tell me, how fairs our lovely queen and the new prince?"

 

Jon smiled again. "She and the babe are well. The maesters assure us she is in good health, a presumption she agrees with wholeheartedly. At the moment she should be arbitrating a dispute between the Lords Celtigar and Rosby.

 

Tyrion frowned in disapproval. "The queen should be more mindful of her health. I could have easily settled such a minor quarrel."

 

"You tell her that next time you see her."

 

An awkward cough was his response and Jon let his smile grow larger. They talked for a time before Tyrion excused himself to carry out Jon's orders. Draining his goblet, he rose and left the council chamber.

 

* * *

 

Although he was tired and desperately needed food and sleep, Jon found his legs taking him to the nursery. It was located near the royal chambers that he shared with his wife. He nodded to the guards and entered without knocking. He found a maid putting his son to sleep. She gave a small jump at his entrance and tried to awkwardly bow but Jon waved her away. He thanked her for the good work and took the babe into his arms. He eased down into a chair near the window and bid the maid to leave, which she did with a curtsy. 

 

Jon sat for a long time, simply staring at his son. Taking him in. He was such a tiny little thing. He favored his mother' side with violet eyes and silver hair. He had Jon's long face though. Daenerys claimed he frowned like him as well. Jon couldn't tell if his wife had been jesting or not. 

 

Robb made a gurgling noise and fussed a bit before settling down against Jon's chest. 

 

Jon fought not to tighten his grip unduly. He'd named his son Robb. He often wondered if that was a mistake on his part. The name still drew a wave of pain from deep within him. Robb Stark had been his brother and now he was gone. Jon looked to his son and thought, _I shall protect you as I should have protected him._

 

He bent down to kiss his son's forehead. That elicited a whimper before Robb's little fists began to grab at his doublet. Jon pulled him closer and nuzzled his cheek with his own.

 

He had no sense of time as he sat with his son. So it was a surprise when a hand caressed his cheek. He looked up to find his wife staring warmly down at him. Judging from the stiffness in his legs and the dwindling light from the window, he'd been sitting for hours. _Seven Hells._

 

Daenerys raised an eyebrow without dropping the smile. "You missed Rhaella's dancing lessons. Jorah had to substitute for you." 

 

Jon grimaced. Rhaella would be pouting for a week. "I'm sorry, I.....lost track of time." It was a poor excuse he knew.

 

His wife gave a small laugh and leaned down to brush Robb's hair. "I think I can understand why."

 

He swallowed painfully. His mouth was thick with the emotion he was feeling. Was it possible to love a person too much? Jon was beginning to think he was slowly learning that lesson. It was a painful one.

 

Daenerys must have sensed his disquiet for she leaned her head against his and laid a hand on his arm. Her hair was unbound so it swept forward like a great silver curtain. Surrounding both father and son. Protecting both. 

 

They stayed like that for a moment before Jon looked up. He gazed into Daenerys' eyes and thought, not for the first time, that he did not deserve her. Or the children. That everything in his life should have belonged to someone else. 

 

She must have sensed this too, for his wife's eyes narrowed. She raised her chin so it jutted out regally. _That bodes ill for me._

 

"Come," she said. Her voice was strong with conviction. "Put Robb to bed so that we might do so as well. You look positively _exhausted_ , husband."

 

Jon knew his wife well enough to know what that tone meant. He felt a jolt of excitement and fought a smile. He put his son back in the cradle, rubbed his cheek affectionately one last time, and went to join his wife. She took his hand as they left the nursery and made their way down the hall.

 

* * *

 

As soon as they entered their bedroom, Daenerys spun around and kissed him. Her lips were softer than silk and sweeter than any wine. But there was no fire in the kiss, no rush. It was a kiss of slow, heavy intimacy. Jon gave a moan and felt his legs quiver the slightest bit. 

 

He pulled back for air but found her undeterred. She lowered her mouth to his neck and began to slowly lick and suck at his pulse. Jon leaned his back into the door and Daenerys followed. Her body seemed to fold into his as she continued her ministrations.

 

Jon couldn't bear it anymore. He scooped Daenerys up (biting down a laugh at her shriek) and carried her to the bed. Once there he lowered her gently and began to help her out of her dress. She returned the favor and soon they were both as naked as their namedays. Jon couldn't help but be drawn to the lines on her belly. The marks that proved she was a mother.

 

She saw his line of slight and reached forward. Daenerys took his hands and brought them to her belly. He began to rub gentle circles into the lines. He felt her shiver. Jon's throat constricted tightly as he gazed at his wife. Her eyes were simultaneously bright and impossibly dark.

 

They fell into bed together, their tongues wrapping around one another like soaring dragons. Jon felt Daenerys' legs spread wide and welcome him into their embrace. Still kissing her, Jon thrusted forward and slid into his wife's waiting cunt.

 

They moaned in unison as their bodes became one. He found her hands and interlocked their fingers. Her body was scalding him and he was certain that he would burn to death any minute. His teeth found her throat and was rewarded with a mewling groan that set his blood aflame. 

 

Jon and Daenerys lost themselves to their lovemaking. Nothing existed beyond the feel of their bodies against one another. This illusion continued for what could have been days before Daenerys twisted to the side and flipped him. She sat astride him, his cock still buried to the hilt inside her, and began to ride him like a dragon. 

 

His voice was weak and warm. "Wait...wait I won't last.....Dany....."

 

Her voice was somehow strong and fragile at the same time. "I don't care. We _deserve_ this, Jon. Don't you see? We deserve to be happy. I love you so much. _Don't you see?_ "

 

He did see. Jon rose up to smash his lips against Daenerys' mouth while he thrusted into her as hard as he could. They rutted like that for as long as they could before they spent themselves together. When he finally filled her with his seed, Jon was certain his groan would have woken the whole keep if Daenerys had not swallowed it down her throat. She collapsed forward, nothing but dead weight. She angled her head so it rested over his heart. He threaded one hand through her silver locks while the other gentle rubbed her back. After a time he was certain he could feel their hearts beating as one. 

 

A small, hidden part of him still believed that he did not deserve her. But all of sudden he found that feeling drowned out by the beating of their hearts. He snaked one of the bed furs and draped it over them before closing his eyes, utterly content.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awful at smut. Apologies.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I write sad endings better than I do happy ones, which is unfortunate.


End file.
